Disraeli apparently met D’Orsay for the first time in February 1832, at a réunion at Bulwer’s house, and he describes him as “the famous Parisian dandy.” They quickly struck up a friendship. It is easy to understand what a fascinating study D’Orsay must have offered to Disraeli. We hear of the latter, a few months after his marriage, entertaining Lyndhurst, Bulwer, and D’Orsay. And in the spring of 1835 there was a party at Lyndhurst’s at 25 George Street, at which Disraeli and d’Orsay were present. One of the company was wearing a waistcoat of splendour exceptional even for those splendid days. Said Disraeli as he entered the room: “What a beautiful pattern! Where did you find it?” Then as the guests with one accord displayed their vests, the host exclaimed: “By the way, this brings to my mind a very curious suit I had about a waistcoat, in which I was counsel for a Jew, and won his case.” And the story? It is lost! As hopelessly as the story of “Ould Grouse in the Gun-room.”
After dinner some of the party went on to the Opera to hear La Sonnambula, that rickety old piece of fireworks; in an opposite box sat Lady Blessington, “not very young, somewhat florid, but effectively arranged in a turban, à la Joséphine.”
Of the evening of 30th March 1835, Crabb Robinson notes: “At half-past seven went to Lady Blessington’s, where I dined. The amusing man of the party was a young Irishman—Lover—a miniature painter and an author. He sang and accompanied himself, and told some Irish tales with admirable effect.… Among other guests were Chorley and the American Willis. Count d’Orsay, of course, did the honours. Did not leave till near one.…”
Lord Lyndhurst was a frequent visitor to Seamore Place. Henry Fothergill Chorley was well-known and respected in his day as a musical critic, as a novelist neither respected nor famous; he was a close friend of D’Orsay. A rude journalist once spoke of “the Chorleys and the chawbacons of literature.” An intimate friend describes him as “doing all sorts of good and generous deeds in a quiet, unostentatious way.” Samuel Lover is best represented by his ballad of “Rory O’More,” and Handy Andy still finds a few readers.
William Archer Shee met Lover under somewhat similar circumstances at another house:—“He is a man who shines much in a small circle. There is a brilliancy of thought, a general versatility of talent about him that makes his society very charming … he is one of the best raconteurs that ever kept an audience in a roar. He told two Irish stories with the most racy humour.”
The Blessington of course often showed herself at the Opera, which then as now was a fashionable lounge for musical and unmusical folk. Writing to the Countess Guiccioli in August 1833, she says:—“Our Opera has been brilliant, and offered a galaxy of talent, such as we never had before. Pasta, Malibran, Tamburini, Rubini, Donzelli, and a host of minor stars, with a corps de ballet, with Taglioni at their head, who more than redeemed their want of excellency. I did not miss a single night.…”
XIV
ROUND THE TOWN
D’Orsay was able to be almost anything to any man, or any woman. He was highly accomplished in every art of pleasing, and endowed with the ability not only to enjoy himself but to be the cause of enjoyment in others. He was popular undoubtedly, wonderfully so, and with a wide and varied range of men and women. But there were also many who despised him, looking askance at one who so openly defied the most sacred conventions of society, and who, in many ways, was accounted a mere adventurer. His money transactions with his friends will not bear scrutiny. Yet when all is said, he counted among the multitude of his friends and admirers such men as Bulwer, Landor, Lamartine, Dickens, Byron, Disraeli and Lyndhurst. John Forster warmed to him, and said that his “pleasantry, wit and kindliness gave him a wonderful fascination.”